Rookie Mistake
Request: Yes / No Hiiiii I was wondering if you could do an undercover thing with Aaron Hotchner I’m obsessed with recently Anon
Requests are open, but for anything I write for but Riverdale, I’m not feeling much inspo for that right now! <3 Have a nice day/night
Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-Binary!Parkinson!Male!Reader
Word count: 2754
Warnings: Mentions of blood, Reader being hurt, I think that’s it
Y/N: Your Name
Y/L/N: Your Last Name
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*Aaron’s POV*
I hated undercover work. It wasn’t because I couldn’t do it, I could, too well, actually. I could slip into roles with the same controlled precision I used everywhere else in my life. Calm voice, measured posture, unreadable face, I understood how to disappear into a character and make people trust me. But I hated the lack of control. Hated relying on variables. Hated not having immediate backup. And most of all, I hated undercover work when Y/N was involved. Which was unfortunate, considering Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N was one of the best undercover operatives the FBI had ever produced.
“She’s our best chance at getting close to him.” Strauss said from the front of the conference room.
My jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Around the table, the BAu exchanged looks while Y/N leaned back in her chair, looking annoyingly calm. The case file spread across the table showed photos of bruised women, warehouse exteriors, crime scene shorts, and surveillance stills. Three women dead. Two missing. All connected to an underground trafficking ring operating across Virginia and Maryland. The unsub, Elias Vance, targeted vulnerable women through fake modeling and hostess opportunities before auctioning them through private parties attended by wealthy clients. We finally got a break when Y/N’s unit traced one of Vance’s recruiters, which had led directly here.
“To get into the parties, we need a believable buyer profile and someone Vance would view as valuable inventory.” Strauss continued.
Reid grimaced slightly. Morgan muttered a curse under his breath. I already knew where this conversation was going.
“I can get in as the buyer.” I said immediately.
Y/N’s eyes flicked toward me briefly.
“And me?” She asked knowingly.
Strauss nodded.
“You’ll pose as his wife.”
I felt every muscle in my body tense because this was it, the exact reason I hated this. Not the danger to myself, but for her. Always her. Y/N specialized in deep undercover work because she was terrifyingly good at adapting. She could become anyone. Slip into personalities so convincingly that it unsettled people who knew her. But that also meant she usually got close to monsters. Too close.
“She shouldn’t go in alone.” I said flatly.
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the caveman routine, Aaron, but I do know how to do my job.”
Emily immediately looked between us.
“Oh, this is personal personal.
Morgan leaned back slowly. “Wait a minute…”
Garcia’s mouth dropped open. “You two are dating!?”
Y/N sighed dramatically. “Wonderful… Great timing.”
Reid blinked rapidly at me. “Statistically speaking, I should’ve noticed that sooner.”
“Well cats outta the bag.” Dave said with a smirk.
I ignored all of them, eyes fixed on Strauss instead.
“She goes in with backup.”
“I already said you’re the backup.’ Strauss replied calmly.
Y/N crossed one leg over the other, infuriatingly composed. “We’ve done couples covers before.”
“Yes.” I said tightly. “With agents trained specifically for undercover support.”
“And you think I can’t handle it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you implied.”
The tension between us sharpened instantly. The room had gone awkwardly quiet because everyone could tell this wasn’t really about professionalism anymore. This was fear. I finally exhaled slowly through my nose.
“What’s the cover?”
Strauss slid a folder toward us.
“Johnathan and Elise Mercer. Wealthy East Coast investors. Married six years.”
Y/N opened the file, then smirked faintly.
“Oh, this is fun.”
I stared at her.
“How is any of this fun?”
She looked up innocently. “Fake marriage? Fancy clothes? Crime rings? It’s like a very stressful date night.”
Morgan barked a laugh.
I did not look amused. Y/N’s expression softened slightly as she noticed.
“Aaron.”
No response.
“Aaron.”
Finally, I looked at her. Her voice gentled just slightly.
“I know what I’m doing.”
And logically? I knew that too. Y/N had spent years undercover. She survived operations most agents never would’ve walked away from. But loving someone changed the math of fear. Because now every risk felt personal.
Three nights later, I stood in front of a hotel mirror adjusting cufflinks while Y/N applied lipstick behind me. The suit was expensive enough to fit our cover story perfectly. Soft jazz drifted through hidden speakers while city lights glowed outside massive windows. Y/N looked devastating, which was part of the problem. The black dress she wore was elegant enough to blend into wealthy circles while still designed to attract attention. Her hair fell in soft waves over bare shoulders, and every movement radiated confidence. She looked like someone born for high society manipulation. I hated how well she fit into this world.
“You’re staring.” Y/N observed casually.
“You look like bait.”
“That’s because I am bait.”
My jaw tightened. Y/N met my eyes in the mirror and sighed softly.
“You glower more when you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Right.”
She walked toward me then, heels clicking softly against hardwood floors.
“Aaron.”
Her hands smoothed lightly over the front of my suit jacket.
“You know what your biggest undercover problem is?”
I looked down at her.
“What?”
“You care too much.”
“I’d argue that’s not a flaw.”
“It is in undercover work.”
Her fingers adjusted my tie gently.
“You hesitated when emotions get involved.”
“And you don’t?”
Y/N smiled faintly.
“No, I compartmentalize.”
That answer bothered me more than it should have. Before I could respond, her expression shifted back into mission mode.
“Okay.” She said professionally. “Once we’re inside, stay close but not protective. Jonathan Mercer is rich, arrogant, and used to control. Elise is decorative but intelligent enough to be useful.”
I nodded slightly.
“You’ll handle most conversation initially.” She continued. “Vance likes women, but he respects money more.”
“And if he separates us?”
Y/N’s eyes darkened slightly.
“Then you trust me to handle myself.”
Easier said than done. A comms tech’s voice crackled quietly through the hidden earpiece.
“Vehicles are in position.”
Y/N stepped back slightly, and just like that, she transformed. The softness vanished from her face entirely. Her posture shifted, her smile became sharper, colder, polished into something wealthy and untouchable. Elise Mercer. I watched it happen in real time and understood again why Y/N was so good at this. It was almost frightening.
She glanced up at me expectantly. “You coming, darling?”
Even her voice had changed. I forced myself into character too. One hand settled against the small of her back naturally as we headed for the door.
“After you.”
The party took place inside a sprawling private estate nearly an hour outside Quantico. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway while wealthy guests drifted through the mansion laughing softly over champagne. At first glance, it looked normal. Elegant. Refined. But I could see the cracks immediately. Too much security. Too many locked doors. Women moving carefully through the crowd with trained smiles and empty eyes. Predators hiding behind expensive suits. Y/N leaned subtly against me as we entered.
“Vance is near the bar.” She murmured quietly enough that only I could hear. I spooted him instantly. Mid-forties. Expensive watch. Predatory smile. Eyes that lingered too long on women. Vance noticed us approaching and smiled broadly.
“Jonathan Mercer.” He greeted warmly, extending a hand. “Glad you could make it.”
I shook it firmly.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Vance’s attention shifted immediately to Y/N. And stayed there. I felt something ugly twist sharply in my chest.
“Elise.” Vance said smoothly.
Y/N smiled perfectly.
“Elias.” The way she said it sounded flirtatious enough to sell the coer while still controlled. Professional. But I still hated it. Vance gestured toward the ballroom.
“Enjoy yourselves. We’ll discuss business later.”
Y/N’s hand slid naturally around my arm as we walked away.
“Relax your shoulders.” She murmured.
“I’m relaxed.”
“You look like you want to kill him.”
“Maybe I do.”
Y/N hid a smile behind her champagne glass.
“That’s actually kind of sweet.”
Hours passed slowly. Too slowly. I stayed hyperaware of everything around us while Y/N moved effortlessly through conversations, collecting information without appearing obvious. She danced with me once to maintain appearances, and for one brief, dangerous moment, it almost felt real. The ballroom glowed gold beneath chandeliers while soft music drifted through the room. Y/N’s body moved perfectly against mine, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Close enough that her voice brushed warm against my ear.
“You’re overthinking again.”
“This entire operation is overthinking.”
“Aaron.” Her hand squeezed my shoulder lightly.
“I’m okay.”
I looked down at her.
“You always say that.”
“Because I usually am.”
The song ended too quickly, then everything went wrong. It happened during a private conversation with Vance near the balcony. Y/N had been steering him carefully toward discussing shipment locations while I played the role of detached husband. And I made one mistake. One tiny mistake…
Vance casually mentioned a previous trafficking investigation in Chicago, and without thinking, I responded too quickly. Too professionally. Just one phrase. One detail only law enforcement would’ve focused on. But it was enough. Y/N noticed immediately. Her eyes flicked sharply toward me. Warning. Too late. Vance’s smile changed instantly. Not visibly to most people, but enough. Predatory suspicion sharpened in his face. I felt cold realization settle heavily in my stomach. Damn it…
Vance leaned back slowly. “You know,” He said conversationally. “you two are very interesting.”
Y/N laughed softly, perfectly in character. “That’s usually considered a compliment.”
“I don’t think you’re who you say you are.”
The room suddenly felt much smaller. My hand twitched slightly toward the concealed weapon at my back. Three armed guards appeared almost immediately. Fast. Organized. Y/N’s voice stayed clam.
“If you’re going to accuse us of something, Elias, at least be entertaining about it.”
Vance smiled, then punched me hard across the face. Chaos exploded instantly. I lunged forward automatically, but multiple guards grabbed me before I could reach Vance. Y/N fought too. Violently. A guard grabbed her arm, and she slammed an elbow into his throat hard enough to drop him. Another caught her from behind.
“Enough.” Vance snapped coldly.
A gun pressed against Y/N’s ribs immediately. I froze, and Vance smiled because he noticed.
“There it is.” He said softly. “That’s real.”
Fear.
My fear for her had exposed us completely. Y/N looked at me briefly. Not angry. Worse… Understanding.
“Bind them.” Vance ordered.
The warehouse smelled like blood and rust. I sat tied to a metal chair, wrists burning against restraints while bruises darkened across my face. Twenty feet away, Y/N was restrained the same way, only she looked worse. Much worse. Blood streaked from a split lip, one eye swollen slightly, her breathing uneven, and every injury was my fault. Vance paced slowly between us.
“You know, I almost believed your cover.” He mused casually.
Y/N spat blood at his shoes.
“Then you’re dumber than you look.”
One of the guards hit her hard across the face instantly. I surged violently against the restraints.
“Don’t touch her!”
Vance smiled.
“There’s the problem.” He crouched in front of me calmly. “You love her too much for undercover work.”
My jaw clenched painfully. Across the room, Y/N lifted her head slightly despite ovvious pain.
“Aaron.” She said quietly. A warning. Don’t react. Too late for that. Vance stood again.
“I was military intelligence once.” He explained conversationally. “People always think undercover work is about lies.” He glanced toward Y/N. “It isn’t. It’s about emotional control.”
His gaze shifted back to me.
“And you lost yours.”
The guilt hit like a physical blow, because he was right. Y/N caught my eyes again and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Don’t. Don’t blame yourself right now. But how could I not? A guard suddenly grabbed Y/N’s hair harshly, yanking her head back. I saw red instantly.
“STOP!”
Vance ignored me completly.
“You,” He said to Y/N. “are very good.”
Y/N smiled weakly despite everything. “I know.”
Another hit landed across her ribs hard enough to make her gasp sharply. I nearly broke the chair struggling against restraints.
“Enough!” I roared.
Vance crouched beside Y/N now.
“And you trained him badly.”
Y/N laughed faintly through blood.
“That one’s on me.”
God…
Even now she was trying to protect me emotionally. I felt sick. Minutes blurred together horribly after that. Questions. Threats. Violence. Mostly directed at Y/N because Vance had correctly identified her as the more experienced operative. And I had to sit there helplessly watching it happen. Every instinct screamed to protect her. Every second I couldn’t felt unbearable. At one point, Y/N couched hard enough that blood stained the floor beneath her chair. My entire body went cold.
“Y/N.”
She lifted her head slowly, still conscious. Barely.
“I’m okay.” She whispered hoarsely.
The lie nearly destroyed me.
Vance laughed softly nearby. “She says that a lot, doesn’t she?”
I glared murderously at him. “You’re dead.”
“Probably.” Vance admitted calmly. “But not before you watch her suffer for your mistake.”
The words hit exactly where intended, because they were true. I had compromised the operation. I had gotten them caught… And Y/N was paying for it.
Hours seemed to pass, maybe less, maybe more. I lost track completely after the third time Y/N nearly blacked out. Then suddenly, gunshots echoed outside the warehouse. Everyone froze. Vance cursed sharply. More gunfire erupted immediately after. FBI. Relief hit so hard it almost hurt. Chaos exploded around us as shouting filled the warehouse. The doors burst open.
“FBI!”
Morgan.
Emily.
SWAT flooded the building fast and brutal.
Guards dropped rapidly under tactical fire while agents cleared rooms with practiced precision. Vance reached for Y/N instinctively, using her as leverage. Bit mistake. I slammed my chair sideways hard enough to knock one guard off balance, creating just enough distraction. A sniper shot rang out. Vance dropped instantly. Then suddenly Emily was beside me, cutting restraints, while Morgan rushed toward Y/N. The second I was free, I was moving. Straight to her. Y/N barely looked conscious now. Her head hung forward slightly while blood streaked down her temple and across her neck.
“Y/N.” My voice broke. God…
Her eyes fluttered open weakly at the sound. “Aaron?”
I dropped to my knees in front of her while Morgan cut the restraints.
“I’m here.”
The moment she was free, Y/N nearly collapsed forward. I caught her immediately, carefully. Terrified of hurting her worse.
“I’m sorry.” I said instantly, voice rough with panic and guilt.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
Her breathing hitched painfully.
“Aaron-”
“This is my fault.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I choked out. “I compromised the cover. I got you hurt.”
Y/N somehow managed a weak crooked smile despite blood on her teeth. Then, very softly,
“You’re still a rookie at undercover.” She whispered. “Don’t worry.”
I laughed one helplessly. Half broken, half relieved, because even barely conscious and covered in bruises, she was still trying to make me feel better. Paramedics rushed in around us. Someone said her name. Someone mentioned internal bleeding. I barely heard any of it. All I could focus on was keeping her awake.
“Stay were me.” I murmured urgently, brushing blood-matted hair back from her face.
“Y/N, look at me.”
Her eyes struggled to focus.
“Tired…”
“I know.”
“Hurts…”
That nearly killed me, because Y/N rarely admitted pain out loud. I pressed my forehead briefly against hers.
“I’ve got you.”
Her hand weakly found my wrist.
“You okay?”
The question stunned me speechless for half a second. She was barely holding consciousness together and still worried about me.
“I’m fine.” He whispered.
She gave me the faintest look, clearly not believing that. Then her eyes slipped shut again.
“Y/N.” Panic surged immediately.
A medic knelt beside them quickly. “Sir, we need to move her now.”
I nodded numbly but didn’t let go until they physically had to separate us. And even then, I stayed beside the stretcher the entire way to the ambulance, blood staining my suit while guilt hollowed me out from the inside. Because all I could see every time I closed my eyes was Y/N tied to that chair because of me. And all I could hear was her teasing voice afterward anyway. You’re still a rookie at undercover. Don’t worry. God… I loved her so much it hurt.
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